


Black Dog

by Sunshade



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshade/pseuds/Sunshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Jet, docked Bebop, dom/sub oral sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Dog

The tip of Spike's fresh cigarette burned a bright red. A smoke mushroom slipped out between his lips. His gaze wandered down to Jet sitting down on the couch. The nicotine softly loosened Spike's grip on reality, courtesy of Jet by providing him with the fire. He watched the man dropped the warm lighter back on the coffee table for him. Whatever Jet had been doing before, Spike ignored. Jet was wearing an apron and there were tools methodically set on the coffee table. The cleaning reagents and rags nearby sparked no interest whatsoever. 

"Jet?"

When Jet looked up, Spike blew a cloud of smoke on his face, eliciting the man into a coughing fit. With the man's guard down, Spike closed in, held Jet by the shoulders and pushed him back onto the couch, his knee pressing into his groin.

"Oy, Spike! What are you-?"

"Need me to spell it out for you?" Spike smirked, pressing harder on Jet with his knee. "Fuck, old man, stop working and let's fu-uck."

"Those are syllables," Jet said, playing for time as he fanned the smoke away with his metal hand. He tried in vain to ignore Spike's weight on his dick. "I'm busy so what, exactly, gives you the right to make such demands off me?"

"Eh? Are you kidding?" Spike looked him up with a show of seemingly genuine bewilderment. "You clean and do the laundry. You feed the dog and the rugrat. You're my Bebop housewife, that's why."

"I do so because no one else in this ship will! How does that make me the housewife?!"

"So," Spike pulled at a string of Jet's apron, staring at him unaffectedly by his emotional protest, "You don't want to?"

"Tsk. I'm not a housewife."

Spike smiled, reached down and swiftly opened up Jet's zipper. Belatedly, Jet realised he'd been sidetracked to childish games, forgetting the all importance of his original task. But Spike was already feeling up the tip of his dick through his underwear. Spike then grabbed a handful of it with a tight grasp, twisting it in a tease. Jet groaned.

"If you're going to do it, do it properly, will you?"

"But I am," Spike said, letting and sitting on the coffee table. He took another drag of his cigarette and Jet watched him blow the smoke at his crotch. "It's called foreplay."

Jet looked up at Spike, snorting. But all he got in return was that blank smile of Spike's as his foot rose to press on Jet's crotch. The shoe sole was rather uncomfortable to Jet on his manhood but he felt the nudging harden his erection. Jet resigned, sitting back on the couch as comfortably as the old piece of junk allowed him. The feeling on his cock wasn't unpleasant in itself, so he closed his eyes and sought to acclimate to Spike's games.

"Hey," Spike called, casually, his foot stopping the motion for the moment to hold Jet's attention. "Where did the kids go?"

"You know where they are. Getting supplies-" Jet's breath faltered when Spike suddenly pressed back on his crotch, sending a pleasurable tingling up his stomach. "You... you saw them off with me at the docking bay, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Spike's feet moved down from Jet's erection, the tip of the sole rubbing the space between his testicles and his ass, "I had my eyes set on something else."

"Eh," Jet commented, a mocking tone dripping from his words. "Aren't you an eager pup? Must be the youth."

"You play the old and wise man card," Spike replied, taking his foot off Jet's hard and throbbing erection, a wet spot of pre-cum forming on his underwear. "But aren't you getting off this too much yourself, Black Dog?"

Jet drew his eyebrows down as statement was followed by hard fact. It was rather indecent that he'd get a raging hard-on only from Spike rubbing a shoe on him. He was a grown man, for heaven's sake.

"Kind of like stripping an onion, aren't you?" Spike smiled and pressed his shoe on Jet's testicles, massaging the round shapes through the fabric. Jet almost dug his back on the couch as he inhaled on the recycled air filtered throughout the Bebop's rooms. "Maybe you're even thinking about being caught in this situation. Ed might not get it but Faye wouldn't let you ever hear the end of it."

"If I'm like stripping an onion," Jet snorted. "Am I going to make you cry, Spike?"

Spike smirked at Jet's valiant retort. He might have let the old man have it, bravely resigning as he had to follow his lead, but Spike was less kinder than he would have liked. Taking a last drag of his cigar, he dropped the ashes on the floor. That immediately struck Jet's nerve, the obsessive cleaner expressing a quick look of disapproval, bendind forwards after it. But before he could have followed through, Spike stood up and blocked his view. Jet found himself with Spike's crotch suddenly mere inches away from his face. The man himself stood still, expectant with that every so often intense gaze of his.

"Are you going to make me cry, Jet?"

Jet swallowed as his retort was driven back to him. Despite Jet's intelligence and knowledge, he was a poor player in Spike's court of mind-games. The man saw through him too much, well aware of his basic desires, those that Jet would rather veil under the pretence of being a cultured man with respectable composure.

"Do you need a hand, old man?" Spike said, mocking emphasis on the title. Both knew there was only nine years difference between them. So, even if there was wisdom in age, Jet didn't have that strong a headstart. Spike's clothes ruffled and he took out his semi-hard manhood, mischievously wagging it close to Jet's face. "Here you go. Make me cry."

Jet was close to losing his temper. Afterall, he knew that this was a childish dare and only Spike had anything to gain off it. But damn it if Jet wasn't hard and wanted to get some himself. Wanted Spike, even if the man proposed sex through no appropriate means. With a last look of disapproval at Spike, eliciting but an seemingly innocent smile from said man, Jet took in the head of Spike's cock.

He found the task almost easier to manage than the man himself. Jet wasn't an avid cocksucker by any means or at least not by any standards that he was possibly aware of. But he could surely do so much as licking between Spike's foreskin, run his tongue in circles on the head. There was fine balance to achieve between leaving Spike hard enough and wet enough to manage take him in. When Jet felt confident enough, he finally took half of Spike's cock's length. When the man's hips shifted closer to his touch, that was as much validation as Jet needed to know that he was performing satisfactorily.

But Spike didn't care to settle for satisfactory. He'd begun swaying his hips more and pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside Jet's mouth and down his throat. When he'd almost sparked Jet's gag reflex, Jet drew back responsively but Spike held him by the back of his head, ramming himself in. Jet's eyes nearly shed tears from the strain as his stomach heaved. But he knew hard work. His strong body wasn't for show either, granting him resilience. Jet determinedly held himself back from making a mess until Spike finally released him with an overly pleased sigh, strings of saliva dripping onto the floor. Jet coughed, feeling his throat burn.

"Ah, Jet, are you alright?" Spike asked, showing a too civilized concern now to be anything genuine. "Sorry, looks like I overdid it. Was that too much?"

Regardless of his apology, Jet knew the man well enough to know Spike was poking at boundaries, leading him on into further games. That or he was simply making fun of him. Possibly both. How well they might hunt bounties together, Jet would never understand the man. But he wouldn't meekly retreat and forfeit from a challenge. He was never one to let go of something once he'd set his mind on it. He even had a reputation and nickname for it.

"I'm just getting warmed-up," Jet assured him. Spike shook his head, much to Jet's annoyance, as if the man were the one bending to Jet's unreasonable whims. He didn't move away an an inch from the blowjob that Jet performed, however. Feeling himself still burning from deep-throating Spike, Jet limited himself to licking and kissing along the shaft. Spike had a generous size and smooth, salty skin. When Jet settled by massaging Spike's testicles only through the fabric of his trousers, Spike himself reached down to free them, leaving Jet no choice but to administer them thorough care. A hard-worker, Jet ran his tongue across Spike's testicle, taking one and the other in his mouth as Spike's finger pulled his lips apart. Spike's cock weighted on his nose, the head dangling over Jet's eyes.

Jet didn't know why Spike bothered with him. The man surely had options, what with charming a local bar waitress anywhere the Bebop refuelled often at. Faye might even indulge him, if at her own whim, but she's also a pain in the ass when she has the upper-hand and troublesome when crossed. Spike was lazy too, if only selectively so. He'd be the sort to never wash a dish but still thoroughly maintained an engine on a whim. A portion of Jet was literally a machine too, his robotic hand unfeeling as Spike reached down to put out his cigarette on the golden, metal surface.

"Say, pass me the lighter?" Spike said and Jet looked up to see him draw another cigarette up to his lips. Taken aback by the request, Jet pulled back from Spike's cock but Spike stopped him midway. "You don't have to take your mouth off me. It's still somewhere behind me. On the table."

Jet thought to protest but settled for no conflict with a cockfull, sighing through his nose. He knew that not giving to some of Spike's games could lead the bastard to retreat anytime. It wouldn't have been the first time. So he reached out, blindly, with his hand, feeling the objects on the table with Spike blocking his view. Jet's hand met an assortment of sundries, some that he recognised, such as a dog treat for the Corgi, an electric wire and Faye's tweezer. He heard something fall on the floor and roll away however. He recognised it from the corner of his eyes as the lighter he'd been after. And so did Spike, apparently. The man grew ominously silent for a moment. But then he casually reassured him: "Nevermind."

With that, Spike set a hand on Jet's head and pushed him off his cock. He walked away, picking up the lighter from the floor. Jet watched Spike maintaining his distance as he brought up the lighter to his cigarette, ignoring Jet as if he were no longer relevant. But a dread from experiences past with Spike filled Jet, his own cock throbbing with need. 

"Oy, Spike."

Spike blew smoke, casually looking towards Jet as if he'd only been distracted from a thought. "What is it?" 

"'What is it'? For fuck's sake, are we going to...?" Jet swallowed his words. It was easier to swear the word than actually name the act. "Or not?"

"Hm? I don't get it. What do you want, Jet?"

"You know what I'm talking about! Your dick's still dangling out of your pants!"

"Well, will you look at that?" Spike replied, feigning surprise. He grabbed his erection, as if to tuck it away, stopping to look at Jet at the last moment. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Jet stared at him, exasperated. Another one of Spike's games but Jet had slipped up this time. Jet knew from experience that Spike would have no qualm in leaving him in this disgraceful state, raging erection ignored. It'd be like going cold turkey for sometime too since Jet never cared to setup an assortment of casual fucks like Spike did. Jet nearly lost it. In a way, Spike was the one who had driven him up to this point and Jet felt now that it almost the man's responsibility to get him off properly. What was the point otherwise? But, apparently, his own failing was in the man's way of going through it and only Jet could remedy the situation now.

"I..."

Spike looked him over questioningly, as if they were having a perfectly casual talk.

"I want you," Jet gulped. But he met the man's gaze and spout it out, however painfully. He was a man, damn it. "To fuck my mouth."

"Eh? Really? With what?"

"With," Jet found himself losing his newfound composure and show of courage, having to state the obvious. "With your cock. I want you to fuck my mouth with your cock."

"Eeh," Spike commented, seemingly impressed. His expression returned to that intense stare of his, a a wide smile playing with the cigarette on his lips. "Really, what am I going to do with you, Jet?"

Spike walked over in an overly-relaxed and uneven gait, grabbing Jet suddenly by the scalp when he'd gotten close enough. The man rubbed his erection across his cheek. "If Ed and Faye had heard you say something so slutty, what do you think they'd say?" With that, Jet looked up to see Spike's unkind gaze fixed on him. He wouldn't tell them, would he? Spike shrugged, "Well. I suppose it doesn't matter now. Lean back, old man," He slapped Jet's cheek lightly with his cock to make his point. "A good dog should get his treat."

Horny and eager, Jet leaned back on the couch as instructed. Spike climbed onto it, his shoes digging into the pillows. Jet couldn't care anymore about home hygiene however, as Spike kept playfully slapping at his cheek with his hard dick and rubbing his head on Jet's lips until they'd turn a slobbering red mess. Standing over him, Spike begun pressing his way into Jet's mouth, continuously trusting until his balls finally slapped the man's chin. Jet took in as much of Spike as he could, a string of saliva trickling down his throat to form a stain on his shirt. As Spike shove his cock deeper inside him, he took care to praise Jet for the performance by whispering his name between sighs of delight. It sounded almost convincing but when Jet got down to it, it was no different from praising a pet. 

Feeling himself go ignored for too long, Jet's free hand, gold and metallic, reached down to pull at his own erection. He wasn't capable to feel heat or humidity through the fabric but he knew pre-cum had pooled in his underwear. Despite his disapproval, Jet's body wasn't completely shell-proof to Spike's games.

"You can pleasure yourself," Spike allowed him, stopping his thrust into Jet's mouth to get his full-attention. "But only through your underwear," Jet's eyebrows plunged into a frown and Spiked added: "You don't want to make a mess, do you?"

With that, Spike resumed fucking his fellow bounty hunter's mouth, picking up speed and giving Jet little time to either settle for his instructions or find protest. Obediently, the sound of ruffling fabric followed as Jet jerked himself with his prosthesis through the underwear. He was rock hard. He didn't know why but Spike managed to elicit very uncharacteristic responses out of him.

Spike's moans had grown quieter but his thrust had grown increasingly relentless, giving little time for Jet's throat to adapt. The head of Spike's cock kept hitting him like a sledgehammer. Spike's hands held onto Jet's head hard, the man trusting faster until he suddenly pulled out, pushed Jet's head back for the man look up at him and aimed at the his face. A first long string of cum landed on Jet's face, marking him from forehead to chin, followed by ungraceful splurges on his nose and cheek. Lighter strings followed from Spike's cock but when Jet turned to shield his eyes, cum ran down his cheek and into his lips. Though he pressed his lips together in discontentment, the salty and bitter taste of Spike's had sent jolts of pleasure down his aroused body.

Spike took several seconds to say anything, breathing heavily as he run his member across Jet's cheek, spreading the cum as if branding translucent paint over Jet's forehead. Then, with a casual "Phew" as if finished with one of his combat exercises, which Jet had often times found himself observing enthralled, Spike stepped out of the couch and sat besides him. 

Jet was still breathless, numb to the cum on his face. He still had the energy to say: "What a mess."

"It suits you," Spike chuckled. Jet snorted sceptically in reply. His gaze fell wishfully on his still rock hard erection. Call him old, however, but Jet was exhausted. All the effort and games sapped his determination. Having managed to complete his task, he could do with a stop here on his own terms. As Spike fiddled with the screen on the coffe table, no doubt to watch that Bounty Hunter programme of his, Jet figured he'd better clean himself up and get back to work. Reaching for his sweaty shirt, he pulled the fabric up this face but Spike's hand stopped him on time.

"Don't. Don't wipe it off."

"What are you talking about? It's dirty."

"Like I said, a good dog should get its treat," Spike let go of Jet's arm and his hand landed on Jet's erection. "Keep it on and you get yours."

Call him old indeed but Jet couldn't even find the will to follow through his earlier decision either. Spike was already nudging him to lean back sideways on the couch, setting Jet's long leg across the whole couch' length, his hands running up Jet's thighs. Really, at some point in one's age, expecting both partners to finish off everytime can be pressuring. But although Jet had found himself content to leave things at this point, if Spike wanted to get him off, he'd certainly not get in the way of youth. Spike running his hand over Jet's erection settled the matter well enough.

Spike was still top-dog even when going down on him. Soon as the man flicked his cigar's butt away to somewhere on the Bebop's floor, again much to Jet's chagrin, he pulled down Jet's underwear and went for a long lick along his shaft. He kept observing the changes in Jet's expression as his fingers danced over the head of his manhood, teasing him under the foreskin. Jet's body wasn't far from climaxing and Spike knew it. Driving his partner to the edge, Spike took in the tip of the cock's head, going down Jet's length skilfully. Jet gasped, opening his eyes to look at him. He didn't know how Spike did it but if anybody could look good or relaxed with a cockfull, it was Spike.

It didn't take long for the man to finish him off, what with all Spike had already gotten him to do. Jet had desperately attempted to hump into Spike's mouth but the man stubbornly held him down, pressing a hard hand on his stomach and making a case of sucking Jet faster and deeper on his own. Jet was a big man and him breathing heavily through his powerful lungs was much like being close to the reverberations of a mighty engine. Spike watched the broad and defined muscles easily tense and react as if Jet was an intuitively built machine willingly responding to his every manoeuvre. Good, Spike wasn't one for delicate controls. The big man moaned louder, giving a rat's ass if his sounds echoed throughout the ship. Spike was going down on him and after the torturous games and lengthy foreplay, there couldn't be anything better waiting for him.

"Spike-"

Jet caught Spike nearly off-guard when he cummed inside his partner's mouth. Spike was quick to act however, containing him and sucking in as much of Jet's load as possible. Jet's colossal body was squirming and the man could hardly say anything intelligible, only moaning and hissing in overwhelming pleasure. This powerful sight made Spike's lips twitch into a smile and a few strings of semen escaped to run down Jet's shaft and pool on his crotch. When Jet finished, he could only see stars flickering in his vision. He was exhausted and losing track of time. Spike was a blur beside him, holding a napkin to his mouth.

"Spike, I..." Jet uttered between breaths, looking up at his partner in a daze. He felt a numb bliss but something else tugged at him. Something that irked him often but could not be simply communicated. "I really don't understand you."

"I don't understand myself either," With that, Jet distinguished a smile on Spike's blurred face as the man continued talking "You look tired. You should rest some." 

And obediently as only a trained dog could, Jet closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

Sometime later, a minute for all that he knew, Jet was awoken by the sound of shopping bags landing on the metal floor. The sound of Faye's heels clicked across the room. He opened his eyes drowsily at first, willing her to be quiet, but his brain urgently went over the facts prior to her arrival and he brought himself up on the couch. But Faye already looked at him, her smile a devious kind. 

"My, my," Faye said, a mocking tone "What have we here?"

"Wait, it's not what you-" Jett said, quickly bringing up his hands to his face. He found it clean however, completely devoid of any bodily fluids. Faye turned the screen on the coffee table towards her, taking a look at the contents. It was a porn program, specifically catered to fetishists for young women in school uniforms.

"Ugh," Faye commented with disgust and almost honest disappointment, "Why am I not surprised?"

"It's not mine!" Jet protested, for it was the truth.

"Hmmm," Faye commented, seemingly considering Jet's claim as she grabbed her shopping bags again and walked past him. She stopped at the room's exit however, looking back at him with that devious smile now lit by nine layers of hell, "Don't forget to tuck it in, old man."

Jet looked down on himself to find his soft cock dangling out of his pants. He could still hear Faye's maniacal laughter echoing from the corridor. Now he knew why Spike had been fiddling with the damn screen.


End file.
